


before the rise

by misteryee



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Dark Side, Brief Mention of Blood, For now ;), Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 00:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misteryee/pseuds/misteryee
Summary: Virgil's a light side. He's happier now than he's ever been. He's close with all the other light sides.But once he was a dark side. But once there were only three light sides. But once Logan had never met his dark counterpart. But once Virgil didn't know he had a light counterpart.How do you think they got to where they are?[I frequently go back and update chapters (grammar, sentence restructuring, adding in bits to support plot) so it's always worth rereading a couple months later if you usually read chapters right when they come out!]





	before the rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil meets Logan.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. 

‘Repeating the word won’t make you able to do it,’ some incredibly unhelpful part of his thoughts reminded him, and he wanted to scream at it, but how was he supposed to scream when he couldn’t  _ breathe _ . 

It was his own fault, really. He shouldn’t have gone to Dee. It had just been a little thing, a little spark, spreading through his chest and tightening his throat. It seemed he never learned his fucking lesson, though, because he’d tried to go to Dee for help and instead he’d taken his little spark and poured gasoline into it and now it was a roaring blaze and it was licking around his chest, his throat, taking away his oxygen and it was burning him alive and he  _ couldn’t breathe-  _

Distantly, he heard a commotion. Thomas, most likely. The host he’d never actually spoken directly to. He wasn’t allowed up there. Remus and the others wouldn’t let him, and even if they did, he wouldn’t. He’d heard tales of the sides up there, and he wasn’t near dumb enough to try to face one of them on his own. 

Creativity, the fiercely protective prince who was no stranger to fighting. Logic, the quick-witted genius with no patience for anyone else. Morality, the smiling fraud who tricks you with his kind words.

Stories of their cruelty were far from scarce in the dark parts of Thomas’ mind, and it was known to all who resided there that they were far from welcome. Dee and Remus, the two sides closest to the light ones considering they were their counterparts, often told Virgil how there was no space left for them in the light side. No matter if they were trying to help or not, they would be dismissed with harsh words and no second thought. 

Nobody knew who Logic’s counterpart was, though.

Whoever it was, it was irrelevant. What did it matter when none of them were allowed to help, anyway? His dark side would be ignored, just like the rest of them. That’s just how things were. 

So he didn’t bother trying to rise up to help. How could he, even? He felt some ounce of guilt, but it was hardly his fault he and his host were so deeply connected. It wasn’t his fault at all, really, it wasn’t his fault that his attacks affected Thomas. It wasn’t his fault that his roommates loved to provoke him. It wasn’t his fault that he was created as a dark side. 

And yet, he felt like it was. And it hurt.

He vaguely acknowledged the bead of blood running down his arm. He kept forgetting to cut his nails shorter. It was a problem when he had a habit of digging his fingers into his upper arm when he was stressed out. It was a secondary priority, though. Secondary to the primary concern of the ache in his chest, placed there by his relentless sobs, and the soreness and irritation in his throat, caused by his wheezing in desperate attempts to get enough oxygen. A pounding headache was only aided by him squeezing his eyes shut, as though not being able to see the blurriness caused by his tears would make him believe they weren’t there. 

He missed the sound of a rapid knock at his door. 

A few seconds passed. Another knock. The banging only startled him more, and he flinched, curling further into himself. It was like he was trying to protect himself. From what, who knew. Some silence. The door opened. 

Light poured onto Virgil’s back, though he didn’t bother lifting his head to let the silhouette in his doorway see his eyeshadow trail-ridden face. There was a sharp inhale, and somebody approached him. Not that he noticed any of this, of course, until there was a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away, an odd strangled noise ripping from his throat. 

“Shh.” Words registered faintly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” It was hard to concentrate on what the voice was saying, but it sounded.. nice. Not mocking or mean like it normally was. He felt fingers threading through his hair, gentle fingers, brushing it back from his face, and against all odds and all instincts, he melted into it. Maybe it was the hunger for kindness in him, maybe it was the absolute lack of warmth he’d experienced all his life, but he shifted to get closer to the touch. The person moved smoothly so his back was against their chest. He put up no fight to the gentle fingers tugging his own away from his arm. 

More soothing words followed. 

“It’s okay, I promise.

Just breathe. Everything’s alright.

You’re okay. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

It was like a lullaby. Soft and lulling, easily settling Virgil. Little hiccups of breath still escaped from Virgil, but the words were so  _ kind  _ and without him even noticing, his breathing had slowed to match the rise and fall of the chest behind him. 

He opened his eyes finally, and looked up when they’d stopped stinging. Blue tie, he’d noted, black shirt, glasses, with a concerned look to top it all off. 

“Who- who are you?” He questioned, his voice rough.

A little smile welcomed him. “Logan. Nice to finally meet you, Paranoia.”

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this will not be well written


End file.
